


Save the Last Dance

by newisalwaysbetter



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: AU--Jess doesn't leave in 2.10, Cuddling, Dancing, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Found Family, Happy Ending, It's all fluff, domestic life, ten years in one fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:11:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18479749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/pseuds/newisalwaysbetter
Summary: In another timeline, another world, Jessica Logan rises in the wee hours after the Civil War mission, slips her husband’s gun from his pocket, and goes on the hunt for a pilot. By the time Wyatt wakes alone, it’s already too late.In this one, events transpire differently.(After a request for WyJess getting their last dance, here's the ten-year happy ending they deserve. Soft fluff and Emotions.)





	Save the Last Dance

Jess has been lying awake for hours, and the underwater light of morning is starting to seep through the bunker window. If she’s going to do this, it needs to be now.

She’s half-forgotten that part, just lying here. Wyatt’s hair is in her face as he clings to her like a koala, snoring gently into her neck. Sleeping this close is convenient for them both, because it allows Wyatt to sleep through the night, and also keeps him quiet and close enough for Jessica to steal his gun.

She’s got one hand slipped in the pocket of Wyatt’s pajama pants, around the pistol he keeps there, when suddenly his hand moves under the blanket and comes to rest on hers. He’s not holding, not pinning, but just letting her know that he’s _there_. 

Wyatt’s voice wavers when he whispers against her throat. “Jess…what’re you  _doing?_ ”

Jessica Logan has never been afraid of her husband, nor is she now. But, when she looks down, his wet eyes are unexpectedly firm in a way that tells her that he’s been awake longer than she knew. 

They haven’t believed each other in a long time.

Jess sighs and sits up properly, and Wyatt watches her from the bed. She relinquishes her grip on the pistol, but Wyatt’s hand doesn’t move from hers. “Just tell me.” She shakes her head and gives him a sad smile, the one that, in her timeline, had always gotten her way. “There’s not any way that I could convince you to join me? …Us?”

“No, Jess.” Wyatt’s voice is low, exhausted, and he rubs his free hand across his eyes. “And we both know there’s no way I can let you leave.”

“So what now?” She shrugs, helplessly. “We fight?”

“Worse.” Wyatt huffs a wet breath and props himself up on his elbow. His eyes are soft but certain, and Jess wonders briefly who this strange new man is. 

 _What have they_ done _to my husband?_  

“We talk.”

* * *

In the years to come, the contours of that conversation will fade, in favor of the endless memories of what comes next. It’s not easy to explain Jess’s circumstances to everyone else in the bunker, and acceptance for her doesn’t come easy. Neither does the baby.

They name him Kevin, after Jess’s brother who lived and whose life nearly tore them apart. Kevin is born two weeks early in 1874, on a filthy cot in a backwoods cabin somewhere in Arkansas. Without anesthetic, Jess howls through the entire birth. It’s a rough beginning to a rough young life spent running from safehouse to safehouse, waking frightened in the night to the sounds of alarms, and eating half-cold MREs on dusty roads in strange times and places. Wyatt and Jess watch each other in the night, over the head of their son sleeping between them, in silence and pain. 

Jess wonders if he trusts her. They both wonder if they did the right thing to bring a child into this world, into this life. 

But while Kevin David Logan might grow up without a home, or safety, or schooling, he does  _not_  grow up without a family. 

Kevin has his parents, who hold him every night, and kiss his skinned knees when he falls down, and push him out of danger. He has Rufus and Jiya, who make him laugh and teach him the important things, like how to turn a wrench and say “nerd” in Klingon. He has the man called Flynn, who takes to him instantly, carrying him on his tall shoulders and sneaking him sweets under the table. He has Aunt Denise and her family, and for years after, all his memories of “normal” are tied to that little sunny house with the Ganesha statue by the door. He has his Uncle Connor.

And he has Aunt Lucy. (Who hates to be called that, so Wyatt tells Kevin to call her  _ma’am,_  which she dislikes _slightly_  less.) When he’s older, Kevin will remember his godmother being distant, in the beginning, but one night there’s soft music playing in their safehouse, and Lucy gently takes his hand and leads him away so that his parents can steal a dance.

“Five years together,” Wyatt murmurs as they sway together, “in this timeline. Hard to believe, huh?”

Jessica doesn’t say anything, for a moment. It’s the most time they’ve had alone in years, and having him this close, breathing into her neck, brings back sharp memories of the night that changed everything. “What I can’t believe,” she says into his ear, “is that  _you_  never told them how you found me. Hand in your pocket…” her hand slides over his hip, a mocking imitation. “Going for your gun…”

“Scared as hell…” Wyatt chuckles into her ear, then pulls back, shaking his head. “That story’s not for them.” His eyes are soft. “Just for you…” he kisses her nose. “And me.”

That makes her smile, and Jess presses their foreheads together. With their eyes closed, she says, “Any regrets?”

“What, about that night?” Wyatt seems to be considering it, which makes her feel better when he whispers, “Not in a million. But,” he adds with an insistent finger, “I  _do_  regret not getting that prom dance I promised you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She shrugs. “This is more than enough.”

“Nah.” Wyatt smiles down. “Someday we’ll get the real thing.”

Jess smiles against his ear. “I’ll hold you to that.”

* * *

The following three years are worse than the ones before, in terms of danger and bloodshed. When their freedom finally comes, it does so so suddenly that they don’t fully realize it until three days after the fact. They’re sitting together on the bunker couch, staring blankly at a film on mute, when Kevin turns to them and says, “Can we go outside, now?”

And, Jess realizes with a growing lightness, they can.

Their little life comes together in pieces: an apartment; a new job, and a military pension; a new wardrobe. Then there’s groceries and tax forms and plugged toilets, and a new car and field trips and sick days. There’s a new ring. And although every year there are new school supplies to buy and new lunches to pack, Jess doesn’t think of the connection until Wyatt comes home from daily pickup one afternoon, grinning like a Labrador and carrying two dance chaperone forms. Even then, she doesn’t fully understand, just thinks they’re going to watch Kevin jive awkwardly next to his date. (There may be something to Rufus’s theory that they’re equally matched in denseness.) They’re surrounded by sixth graders, swaying at hip level, when her husband reaches for her hand.

“You’re smarter than you look, Mr. Logan,” she smirks, drawing him close.

“Don’t have to tell me,” Wyatt chuckles. “It’s my fault we never got this when we were supposed to. Sorry it took so long to get here.” His face softens. “You deserved better than me, Jess.”

She holds Wyatt’s gaze, finds the unbearable trust there, and the snark dies on her tongue.

Instead, Jess pulls him close and buries her face in his shoulder. Wyatt’s arms tighten around her. “I’m not sure I believe that.” She’s not crying. “I don’t know what I deserve.”

“I know, Jess.” Wyatt strokes her hair with unbearable gentleness. “I’m gonna show you. Every day.”

And Jess doesn’t trust herself to speak, but she believes that. And just like that night, ten years ago, Wyatt doesn’t pull away. And they two cling to each other as the memory begins to soften, lost in the music and learning the steps of a new dance.


End file.
